


There Are No Speed Limits In Zombie Land

by aquatarius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Body Horror, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Horror, M/M, Mystery, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombiestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquatarius/pseuds/aquatarius
Summary: Your name is Dualscar (Well, Kinda, it's a long story), and you're in the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse. Things are going better then expected.  Mostly. In which Dualscar, a zombie named after drugs, and a whole lot of bad ideas all come together.





	1. Unneeded Exposition and Needed Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just a fic for me to fuck around with and is not to be taken seriously. Also like how...how much more niche can you get then 'Dualscar and his friend the zombie run around doing stupid shit in a post zombie apoc world. What the heck. 
> 
> I'm planning on introducing other characters, and atm im just planning on ancestors?? Idk. We'll see.

There’s a lota different types a zombies, you’ve found. The brainless ones, who just shamble around and bump into things, are mostly harmless. The eaters, the causers of the brainless ones, go after internal organs and are the biggest danger to ya all. The vampires, or bats, are blood suckers. They drain a body of blood in ten minutes of sucking away. A hoard of them can do it in ten seconds. The trolls are most human-like. Bigger, gray skin, not real smart. That’s the sickness that spreads if you get bit by a troll.

Eaters, if they just bite you, turn you into an eater. Same with bats, kill you or make you one of them. Mostly, though, they just try to kill you. Trolls, when they’re not on some sort of rampage, ah. They’re awful. They’ll try to turn anyone they can find.

 Trolls are like animals. Overgrown, gray-skinned and odd blood colored, human-shaped, animals. They’re smart, they can be reasoned with and some of them can even speak a little. They can be calmed. Not tamed, never tamed, they’re still zombies and a danger. But calmed and made into a help instead of a danger.

 As evidenced by the troll you have on a leash.

 When you stepped back into the ruins of America (God fucking curse the country that did this to itself.), you expected to see everyone dead or turned, sort of like in the movies. But, people survive. People make the best of what they got. And what they had was ways to fend off the zombie attacks. Leave the brainless, or take their head off. Avoid the eaters, or burn them. Avoid the bats, or dry them out. Kill the trolls. Build cities up again and this time have walls around them. Everyone works for their share of food, start gardens and keep herds of animals. Fuck, in a decade, people were restarting their lives.

 Trolls were mostly killed when you came back, and still are. They’re dangerous, and damn capricious. Your friend one moment and going on the attack for no reason the next. They growl and hunt and mostly eat the other zombies. Mostly. They like human flesh and troll flesh less, but they’ll eat them too.

 You, sitting around a fire with your troll on the other, scribble such observations in your notebook. Recently, you were asked to make a field book for new comers to the city (New New York) and for children. And to be passed around, if it was good enough.

 Ghb (You call him that because you found a package of the drug on his body before realizing he was alive and backing the fuck off.) sits on the other side, eyes half closed and making these odd almost honks as he breathes out. You think he might be sleeping. It’s hard to tell with trolls. Usually they have what you think are nightmares, barely able to sleep at all since they wake up screaming every few minutes.

 After a few moments, he does indeed jerk awake and give an unhappy honk of a sound as he does. His face, smeared with soot and mud, twists into a tight, frightened frown and his pointed ears tip down.

 “Be quiet.” You say. He responds with a few quiet, distressed chirrs. “You’re fine. It was just a nightmare.”

  Ghb continues to chirr unhappily. You ignore him and continue your work.

 You tap your pencil on the top of your notebook. What exactly are trolls? What makes them different from humans? They can’t speak, they go into uncontrollable rages, they have gray skin and odd colored blood. (Ghb has purple, this deep, rich purple.) No one knows if they remember their past life. It’s not like someone can just ask them. Are they really human, just trapped under gray skin and a mouth that won’t obey?

 With a snort, you put aside that thought. You’re not here to debate if zombies are really human. You’re here to make sure every human that reads your book isn’t going to make a rookie mistake that ends up with them brainless or acting as course one in the eater’s daily meal plan.

 Another thing that you scribble down is that Zombies, especially trolls, are more active in the night. In fact, in the broad daylight, they are actually defensive and try to escape into buildings rather than eat you, even if they’re in a rampage.

  _If it’s daytime, and you’re being chased by any sort of zombie, head to the outside and get into the sun. If it’s night time, lock yourself into a room, with weapons or things that can be used as weapons if you can, and pray it hasn’t been able to find a way to open doors._

 Ghb honks mournfully, and you shush him. He honks again, and you huff and look up. He’s pulling at the collar around his neck. It’s made up of chains, and a padlock, and the leash is tied to a nearby car. He could probably pull it over, but it would be damn hard to do and give you enough warning to get one of your guns.

 “That’s not comin’ off. You and I both know that’s you’re dangerous.” You say. He whines and pulls weakly on the chain. You wonder if he’s smart enough to realize what he’s doing, how pathetic and weak he looks. It doesn’t matter. He’s not coming out. You look down at your book and go back to writing. You need to finish this chapter, then try to get some sleep. Morning comes early every day, now.

-

 The nice thing about having a troll around is that he acts like a guard dog and deterrent from the bats and eaters. You, in return, act like helpless bait so the stupider ones can come near and try to eat you. Then he eats them. You’re safe and he’s fed and one less fuckin’ zombie to worry about. The end.

 You can sleep in relative peace, now. When you wake up, the sun is on your face. It catches you off guard and you jolt, sitting up and looking around. The camp is just like you left it, Ghb seated on the other side and note books and guns in their places. Few cans of food in your bag.

  Nothing wrong. You just overslept. You grit your teeth and stand up. Ghb lifts his head and stares at you. His yellow eyes creep you the fuck out, and you wonder how helpful he’d be if he had them removed. Not very, you guess, so you just gather up your shit and go over to grab his chain.

  You until it from the car and walk over to your truck. Ghb knows the rules: He can’t come over until you’re in the car, and he has to climb into the bed of the truck.

  Once you’re in, he does that, climbing into the back and smooshing his face against the back window. You smack it, and he honks in surprise and jerks his head back. He knows better, he does this every damn time. You need to be able to see out your windows and if he’s got his face and his slobber all over it, you can’t. Christ, you wish these things were smarter.

  After everything is ready to go, gas and food and guns stored precisely right, then you go. There are no speed limits in zombie land, which is good for you since you never followed them anyway.

 You turn on the radio to listen to the static. The world has ended but you, ‘Dualscar’, you’re still here, and you ain’t got any intention of going anywhere any time soon.


	2. Oh Fucking Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Fang is met and shit starts going downhill.

  The city’s walls come into view first. It’s mostly wire fencing, but they’ve managed to get a waist high brick wall behind that, and it’s growing. You’ve seen the plans. They’ll have a brick wall that’s ten feet tall, a moat on either side, and a wire fence in front of the fence. There’s a gate to the north and the south. They let you in through the south gate without a question. Maybe they recognize your car, or you, or the huge fucking troll in the back of your car. It doesn’t matter.

  You drive down the roads and ignore the people on the streets who watch you. The south gate leads directly into the city, instead of leading you through some gardens and barns like the north one. The headquarters of New New York (Which isn’t actually anywhere near New York or York.) is in the center of the city. The city is built on the ruins of another one, some of the old buildings still stand and are made use of. Others are rebuilt using anything from wood and screws to tarps and duct tape.

  The headquarters is one of the old buildings. You drive past it to one of the new buildings, a wood and tarp one. Three wood walls and a tarp one. She’s already coming out of the tent wall before you can turn off the car. You turn off the car, then close your eyes and rest the back of your head against the headrest. You really don’t have the patience to deal with her today. Not like you have a lota choice, though, so you relucently climb out of the car.

  Mrs. Fang, a woman with waist long, tangled, black hair that she holds back in a bandanna, too much lipstick, a pair of boots that go up to her knees, and a light blue scarf around her waist, grins at you. Her eyes are intense, as deep as the sea and as dangerous. Ghb stays in the back of the car. You think he’s somewhat afraid of her.

  She’s gained a hat, you realize as you walk towards her. (Why can’t she meet you half way for once? Why are you _always_ forced to walk towards her? Why is she such a bitch?) It really completes her whole pirate look she’s got going on. Only Fang would find time for a fucking hat in this hell hole. You stop in front of her, seething and trying not to let it show. If you show that she affects you, she wins.

  “Did you bring what I asked, darling?” Fang asks. Her tone is light, teasing, flirtatious. It sends shivers down your spine.

  “Back a the truck. Gimmie.” You stick out your hand. She looks at it, and quirks an eyebrow up.

  “Oh honey.” You hate her, you hate her, you hate her. “You aren’t getting shit until you show me what you promised.”

  You lower your hand, bit your tongue, and back up to the truck. She matches your steps, still smiling, that infernal, horrible, beautiful smile. Humiliation that you’re allowing this bitch to tell you what to do burns hot in your insides and you want to smack her. Instead, you open the back of your truck and pull out the bag of birdseed. You toss it to her and she inspects it. Once it’s passed inspection, she jerks her head to a box next to the tent.

  “Your stuff is over there. Feel free to come by any time, sweet heart.” She coos. You ignore her and walk past her to get the box. You half turn to keep an eye on her as you grab the box. Inside are some bullets and some grenades. That was the deal, and Fang cares enough about your alliance not to fuck you over. You don’t check.

  Once you have the box, you retreat to the car and drop the box in the bed. Ghb has pressed himself flat against the floor of the truck bed, and is whining quietly, ears flat against his skull. What a baby. Fang glances at you, makes a kissy sound, and turns around. She heads back to her tent, and you watch her ass. She’s horrible but that butt sure isn’t.

  Behind you, Ghb shifts and rests his chin on your shoulder. The smell of his breath is rot and blood with a hint of soda. You glance at him, and he rolls his eyes over to look at you. Realizing that he’s so close makes your stomach do a backflip and then curl up and attempt to hide under your rib cage.

  “Excuse you.” You say, voice surprisingly steady. He honks and draws back. You need to remember not to let him get that close. Why are you more willing to turn your back to a troll then to a fellow human?

  You push those thoughts aside. You can think about them later. You pop open the door and climb inside. A few moments later, you’ve started the car and are driving again, heading back south.

  The guards let you out of the city, and you keep driving. Part of you wonders where you’re going, but most of you just wants to drive and drive and drive until you can’t drive any more.

  But you’re smarter than that. You want to live. You only have so much gas. So you pick a place. A small settlement who trades really shitty alcohol for just about anything. You can get some ‘beer’ for the cans of food you have, and bring them to another place to get fresh fruit and more gas.

  This is your life now. Gathering information for your book, traveling around the settlements trading for what you need, killing zombies, watching the troll. You glace out the back window, and he has his face smooshed against the glass again. Your eyes meet his, and you realize he’s not wearing his collar.

  “Fucking _shit!_ ” Is what you’d say if there was air in your lungs and your tongue wasn’t stuck to the roof of your mouth. As you are, you can only turn your gaze to the road and keep driving and try to figure out what the hell you’re going to do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ??? Bull Shit


	3. Oh Look Another Character

Your hands are holding so tightly onto the steering wheel that they’re white as bone. Your tongue feels thick and you’re having trouble focusing on the road.

  They told you this would happen. That you would be unable to control the troll forever. Sooner or later, they said, he’d get out. And now, he was out. How had he gotten the collar off? Had he managed to break it? It doesn’t really matter how he’d gotten the collar off. It was off. You have to deal with the consequences now.

  You’re such an idiot sometimes.

  He can’t be brought into a town. He could _hurt_ people there. He could get loose and hurt people and destroy things. You don’t know the depths of his depravity.

  So you need to stop. You need to bring him somewhere he won’t hurt anyone, and you need to kill him out there. Only, a part of you winces at the idea of shooting him. Which is completely stupid. He’s a monster. He’s a zombie.

  Your mind races. There has to be a way out of this. You’ve found a way out of everything so far, and you aren’t going to be killed by some zombie that you tried to tame. You will not be killed by your own mistake.

  The map on the seat next to you is half open. You slowly remove a hand from the steering wheel, and space glances at the map as you struggle to open it the rest of the way. It’s not easy since you’re trying to drive and your hand is shaking badly. You manage it in a few minutes, then set your hand back on the steering wheel with its mate.

Slowly, carefully, you turn your head and look down at the map. There’s not a whole lot of other drivers on the road, so you don’t think you’ll run into anyone. Still, you only stare at the map for a few moments before looking back up at the road.

  You and a few very trusted ‘friends’ have marked up each other’s maps. Off roads, safe houses, extra cabins, stashes of ammo. Leave it better then you find it ‘less you’re dying, don’t tell anyone who ain’t a wanderer, and don’t use it if you don’t need it. The three golden rules that people like you follow.

  There’s a cabin a few miles down the road, according to a line on your map. It’ll have food, maybe some ammo, and best of all, a cage. You can lock him in there, maybe trick him with food. And then you can get a collar on him again.

  Worst comes to worst, you can take the key and lock _yourself_ in there.

  You put the peddle to the metal, and repeat your personal mantra.

  There are no speed limits in zombie land.

-

  There is a cabin. You let out a sigh of relief when you see it, and slow your car down. A glance backwards reveals that he’s still in the back. You don’t know if you should thank god for that. At least you know for sure he won’t just jump out of the back of a moving car.

  You stop the car in front of the cabin, which appears to be a couple rooms big. It might have some sort of underground place, too. Most places nowadays have at least a carved out place big enough for a couple people to cram themselves in. Just in case places.

  Ghb doesn’t get out of the bed of the truck. You aren’t sure if you were expecting him to leap out and rip you out of the truck and maul you to death, but you weren’t really expecting him to just…Sit there.

  He’s waiting. He has to be waiting. Trolls, they’re smarter than the other zombies. He’s waiting until you get out of the car. So you’ll need your gun, and you’ll need to get out of the car in such a way that allows you to point it at him.

  Or, maybe if you get out and just turn around very quickly so you can aim it at him. You’re pretty sure that you can’t climb out of the car at that angle.

  Run. You can just make a run for it.

  That sounds like the most reasonable idea you’ve had so far. He’s big, so he can’t be that fast, right? Right.

  You pick up your bag from the seat, and sling it over your arm. Then you set your hand on the door. One breath in. One breath out. Pop open the door, grab the gun. And you run. You run as fast as your legs will carry you, and slam your shoulder into the door.

  The door flies inward, and you land hard on your arms and knees. You jerk out foot out, catch the door with the sole of your foot, and swing your foot so the door slams closed.

  You’re safe. You’re inside, and he’s outside. You slowly pull yourself up to sit on your knees, and drop your bag on the ground. The cabin is dusty and small inside. It’s one room, with a couch facing a dead fire place, an ancient t.v. crammed in the corner, and a fraying rug in the center of the floor.

  A woman, slumphed back against the wall opposite of you, a shotgun across her lap, and her left arm missing (Cut off just below the shoulder), stares at you. You stare back.

  “Hello.” She says.

  “Uh.” You say.

  She strokes the gun with her good hand. “Who are you?”

  “Dualscar.”

  “I see. That is a very accurate name.” She speaks to you like a woman speaking to a first grader. You scratch your lower scar. “You may call me Mrs. Maryam. What’s outside?”

  “A troll.”

  “You brought a troll to my front doorstep.” Mrs. Maryam’s voice is colder now. Disapproving. You scowl and bite back a few words you’d like to say. She lifts up her gun with her good arm. You realize it smells an awful lot like piss and rotting body parts in here. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take care of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this rate I'll have all the ancestors either hinted at or in the story in a few chapters
> 
> Momma Maryam's gonna fuck ghb up yo. Also her arms missing bc for some reason that's just? the image I've had of her in my mind since the start of the story.


	4. Let Down

  Mrs. Maryam is a force of nature. You barely scramble out of her way in time to not get stepped on. If she’s bothered by the fact that she’s literally missing a fucking arm, she doesn’t show it. She simply gets up, walks past you, opens the door, steps out, and closes the door behind her while cradling the shotgun in her elbow.

  You’re not really sure what to do. She’s obviously an older woman, hair more gray then black, and you should probably help her, but A) you really don’t want to go out there and B) she seems to have this handled.

  So you wait inside. You move over to sit on the couch and stare at the fireplace as you wait for the screaming or the gunshots or the awful squelch sound of claws being dug into a body.

  One _BANG_ comes. You flinch, and wait for screams or something dramatic. You can hear low talking. Another bang. The door opens and Mrs. Maryam walks into the house and goes back over to the wall. Why doesn’t she sit on the couch? She can clearly walk around. Maybe she just likes the ability to see the door easily. More room for you, you guess.

  “I think your troll is a very nice troll, for a half dead.” Mrs. Maryam says. You look over at her, and stare. She’s out of her mind. Perhaps she’s senile. “I suspect he’s waiting for you to come back out.”

  She’s joking. She’s got to be joking.

  She doesn’t _seem_ to be joking. What if she’s right? A suspicion, ugly and out of place in this land, pushes under your skin and creeps up your spine. Ghb hasn’t made a move against you in ages. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he had mellowed. If you didn’t know better.

  “Is he still in my truck?” You ask. Mrs. Maryam nods, and then closes her eyes. Conversation over, you suppose.

  You slowly stand up, and walk over to the door. One breath in, one breath out. You open the door, and step out.

  Ghb is not in the back of the truck.

  You turn your head to look around, and something slams into the side of your head and pins you to the wall of the cabin. Who could’ve possibly seen this coming? Not you, that’s for sure, not Dualscar, captain of stupidity. You really hate your life. Nix the being mellowed out part. Obviously you did know better.

Pain pulses through your skull. You set your hands on the wall, and try to steady yourself. It doesn’t work. You can smell Ghb behind you. That awful, rancid smell of blood and soda and death. From what you’ve seen, or, er, smelled, you can say the soda is unique to Ghb. That doesn’t help you, though, and you’re not even sure why you thought of it.

  Ghb growls. The sound is deep, so, so deep, and it bubbles and grinds its way up his throat like a chainsaw starting. He digs his claws into your skull, and then jerks back and lets go.

  You fall on your back, what little breath there was in you whooshing out of you as your back hits the hard ground under you. Ghb looms over you. His lips pull back in a snarl and his hair falls like a matted curtain of filth.

  “Fuck you.” His words are clear as the sun in Texas on a sunny day and your head spins. Once again, your world has been grabbed and turned up on its head. You stare dumbly at him, wondering if he’s going to kill you. He continues to growl, looking down at you with his face all twisted in an awful snarl.

  Where has your gun gotten off to? You must have dropped it. Damn. You can’t risk looking away from him. The realization that he’s going to kill you whether you’re looking at him or not smacks you in the face and you slowly turn your head to look around for the gun.

  It’s laying a few feet away. If you can just, slowly slide your hand over to it…

  The moment your hand moves, Ghb growls again and grabs you by the front of your shirt. He lifts you up and presses your back to his chest. Keeps you pinned like that.

 Everything in you is revolted at this sequence of happenings. You’re being manhandled by a zombie. The door to the cabin opens, and Mrs. Maryam stands in the doorway, staring at the two of you. She lifts an eyebrow. Ghb’s claws dig into your chest, and blood starts leaking out of you. You grit your teeth on the curses you want to spew out at her and at him.

  “Let him go.” Mrs. Maryam says. Her voice is so calm. It reminds you somewhat of a mother telling her two children to share a piece of cake.

  Ghb snarls at her, and she lifts up her gun. She apparently never sets it down. Ghb lets go of you and shrinks away with a sharp hiss of annoyence. Your legs don’t support you, and you tip to the side before you can force them to cooperate.

  “Go away.” Mrs. Maryam tells him. You slowly pick yourself up, and grab your gun as you do. Lotta good it did you, hah. “Shoo.”

  “He’s not a fucking cat.” You snap at Mrs. Maryam. She turns her gaze to you and you don’t think she needs a gun in her hand to be fearsome.

  “He’s not stupid, either, Dualscar.” Her voice is ice sliding down your back and jabbing into your spine. It makes you stand up straighter and wish you’d kept your damn mouth shut. “Troll. Go. Away.”

  The sound of Ghb shuffling away is surprising. You turn and watch him. He looks sullen and displeased with the whole business, but he doesn’t dare go against someone who has a fucking shot gun, even if they’ve got one arm. He’s not smart, but maybe he’s not stupid, either. (You know he’s not, you’ve known it for so long. Why do you keep treating him like a rabid dog? He’s rabid, but he sure as hell ain’t a dog.)

  “Dualscar. If you’ll come inside.” Mrs. Maryam says. You hurry inside, and try not to think of the troll outside that you’ve clearly underestimated.

 

* * *

 

  The medical abilities of Mrs. Maryam are above par. Certainly better than anything you’ve had in years. Every scratch and bruise you have is disinfected and given either a bandage or a band aid, depending on the severity. She started with the claw marks on your chest, but she did not stop there.

  It’s been years since you’ve even _seen_ disinfectant. There’s a suspicion creeping about in the back of your mind that it’s not real disinfectant, but the lady seems pretty sure it’ll work the same, so you don’t say anything.

  You sit and let her patch you up. She does a lot of patching and a lot of tsking and a lot of shaking her head. She is not pleased with your state, apparently. Which isn’t really fair. You’ve been trying hard for years to keep your body tip top. It’s not your fault you’re getting older.

  “You need to take better care of yourself.” Mrs. Maryam says. You scowl at her.

  “I take fine care of myself.”

  “I think you’re infected with something.”

  “Bullshit. You’re paranoid.”

  “Excuse me?” She raises an eyebrow and stares you down. Good fuck, that’s not a nice look. You suddenly find the messed up rug very interesting. “Who’s the one with medical knowledge?”

  You grumble quietly, and she goes back to her damned poking and prodding. It’s impressive what she can do with only one hand. But, people adapt. You know that as well as anyone.

  “What did you do to get yourself trapped here?” You ask. She pauses for a moment, then continues.

  “I was going to meet my family.” Mrs. Maryam says. “My family consists of my son, and his wife, and a friend of ours.”  When she falls quiet, you give a little grunt. She sighs softly. “Keep your wounds covered and make sure not to mess with your bandages. Find someone to take care of your wounds in a few days.”

  “Thank you. I’ll try.” You say. You want to push and find out what she’s doing here, but something tells you it won’t be a good idea. Must be that stunning self-preservation streak you have. You know, the one you that convinced you to take a god damned zombie around in the back of your truck. “Are you sticking around for long?”

  “No. I was planning on leaving tomorrow.” Mrs. Maryam answers. “I was heading that way.”

  She points in the direction you were driving. You nod and pull your shirt over your head. Typically, you wouldn’t do this, but….Hell, she’s just a…harmless-ish old woman.

  “I can give you a lift.” You offer. Mrs. Maryam looks up at you and blinks a couple times. She looks you up and down, like she’s sizing you up, and then slowly nods.

  “All right. I’d appreciate that.” She says slowly. You risk a small, lopsided smile.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow.” You say.

  “Do you have any idea how we’re going to get past your troll?”

  “Kill him?”

  Mrs. Maryam pauses. She looks at you and frowns.

  “No. We can’t kill him. I can’t explain right now, but you cannot kill him.” She says.

  “He’s a zombie. He tried to eat me.”

  “He shoved you around for tying him up and let you go when I asked him to.” She says reasonably.

  “You held a shotgun on him!” You snap. Mrs. Maryam holds your gaze with the evenness of a woman who knows she’s in charge.

  “We are not going to kill him. We’ll attempt to bring him with us, but we won’t force him. He won’t fight us as long as we have our guns and he doesn’t.” She says. She knows something. The sudden thought prickles under your skin and leaves you so very uneasy. 

  “…Fine.” You say. You just want this conversation over. You want this entire fucking chapter of your life over. You don’t want that troll, you don’t want this woman, you don’t want this cabin, and you don’t really want your truck.

  Neither of you say a word for the rest of the evening. She goes back to sit against the wall, and you lay down on the couch to try to catch a few hours of rest. Everything in you wants you to pay attention to the troll outside who’s scratching on the door and pressing his face against the windows with the most horrific expressions. But you don’t. You press your face into the couch and force yourself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would've let him get beat up but Mrs. Maryam is a better person then me >:V
> 
> I wanted...more to happen during this chapter tbh. I was disappointed with the interaction between Ghb and Mrs. Maryam and I wanted Dualscar to get beat up more. But I guess there's still more then enough time for that. 
> 
> ANHYWA. We have some interesting things coming up in the next couple of chapters. Including *GASP* actual plot! And more characters. AND SHIPS. Okay anyway thanks for the support I love everyone who's left kudoes and comments //Hugs//


	5. Let's Move It Along and Talk Briefly About Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get on the road, Ghb is good, and Rosa and Dualscar share family summaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayeeee guess who's working on this again. *Winks loudly* I've had a lot of time to think where this is going and I'm gonna add some tags, so watch out for those, okay?

You wake up with a start and sit up on the couch. Your heart is racing, pounding in your chest so hard you think it’s going to break itself. Is this what a heart attack is? You’re pretty sure it’s not a heart attack. You’re also not having a panic attack. So you must’ve been having a nightmare. You can’t remember what it was, but you feel extremely unsettled.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake.” Mrs. Maryam says.

  You look over to her. She has a pack on her back, and her shotgun rests lightly in her hand. She holds it with an ease that makes you fear her. You don’t fear many people.

  “…Aye.” You say.

  “Are you ready to leave?” She asks.

  You nod, and climb off the couch. You grab your gun, as well. Ghb is still out there. How the hell are you supposed to get to the car and get away without him doing some shit? Killing him, obviously, but Mrs. Maryam doesn’t seem that keen on killing him, and you don’t know that you can do it with a hand gun. He’s had a hell of a lot worse than a hand gun.

  “Aye.” You repeat, and head over to the door. You open it slowly, and peek outside.

  At first glance, nothing seems to be the matter. At second, it’s clear that ghb isn’t there, and that is a fairly big matter. You grit your teeth, and step outside. Gun held tightly in hand, you head towards the car.

  Surprisingly, you make it without incident, and climb into the driver’s seat. Mrs. Maryam makes her way over to the passenger’s side and climbs in as well. You’re about to start the truck when she lays a hand on your wrist and squeezes gently. You glance over at her, and then follow her gaze out the back window.

  Ghb is heading towards the back of the truck. You stiffen, and squeeze onto your gun, but he simply climbs into the back, just like he did when he wore his collar, and sits in it. You and Mrs. Maryam share a look, then you set down your gun and start to drive.

  You drive for an hour in silence, minutes ticking slowly off. Finally, though, you break the silence.

  “What’d your family like?” You ask. Mrs. Maryam is quiet for so long you think she’s not going to answer and resign yourself to a drive of absolute silence.  

  “My family is small and loving. My son is loud and never believes he’s in the wrong and believes too strongly in justice and the good of mankind.” She says. “His wife is small and violent and talks too loudly. Mituna Captor, our friend, is sloppy, snarky, and skinny.”

  “…Sounds like a lovely bunch.” You mutter.

  “Do you have any family?” Mrs. Maryam inquires.

  It’s your turn to be quiet, to think about your family while tears gather in your eyes, and you realize why it took her so long to answer. You almost don’t tell her. But the apocalypse has made all of you over sharing fools, because it’s easier to accept what you’ve lost when you can say it out loud to someone who doesn’t give a shit.

  “I had a brother.” You say. “His name was Eridan, and he was a fuckin’ twerp who loved military history, fantasy, and long words.”

  “He sounds like a handful.”

  “God, he was.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. I never spoke to him after I left home.”

  “Ah. That was a mistake.” Mrs. Maryam has a way of saying things that don’t sound accusatory, but point out your mistake all the same. It’s sort of refreshing.

  You nod, and watch the road. Both of you are quiet, but it’s not the sort of quiet that makes you turn on the radio.


	6. Filler Filler Filler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blah, blah, blah, you can pretty much skip this chapter.

 The trip is longer than you were expecting it to be. It leaves you irritated and nervous, and gives you a lot of time to think about why this woman wouldn’t want you to kill a troll, why the troll hasn’t killed you, and if it’s smart to start making friends outta strangers. 

 

 By the time you come to the ruins of an old city, you’re aching for a cigarette or some sort of alcohol. Alcohol would be better, you muse, it might give you a bit of peace and quiet that you really, really want right now. 

 

 “Stop.” 

 

 You obey Mrs. Maryam at once, bringing the car to as speedy a stop as you can. “What?”

 

 “My family is here.” She says, popping open the door. 

 

 “Why wouldn’t they be in the town? There’s a place a few hours that way that’s pretty damn friendly for a post-apocalyptic people.” You say, twisting your head to face her. 

 

 “I know. We were going to go there after we met up here.” She says. She climbs out of the car, and you frown and check your mirror. Ghb is still in the back, dozing, cheek resting on the side of the bed and eyes half closed. He looks oddly peaceful, and you scowl at his reflection. “You could travel with us. There is safety in numbers. I assume you are fairly competent, when you’re not attempting to go hand to hand with a troll.” 

 

 “That ain’t what happened.” You hesitate, then climb out of the car as well. Ghb doesn’t budge. “Where are they?”

 

 “I’m not sure. Somewhere in the ruins.” Mrs. Maryam says. She doesn’t seem at all concerned with the fact that her family is nowhere to be seen and there could be any number of terrors lurking about the city. You walk in front of the truck, and she does as well. The two of you stare down the street, which is mostly empty of rubble, and you cross your arms. 

 

You shouldn’t go with them. You don’t do well in groups. There’s a reason you stay on the road, and it’s not the reason that you used to give. The truth is you just don’t like that many people and it gets hard not punching some sense into everyone you see. But Mrs. Maryam is useful, if only for her medical skills, and until you figure out a way to get rid of Ghb or contain him, you may not be safe alone. Of course, if you left Mrs. Maryam, you could kill him after they’re gone. Unless he gets you first. 

 

 While you’re lost in thought, Mrs. Maryam is moving, heading deeper into the ruins. You jerk out of your thoughts when she fires that shotgun of hers, and jog over to her. There’s an eater sprawled on the ground, head blown off. It twitches, and then starts to pull itself up to its feet. You scowl and fish a match out of your pocket. They’re so rare nowadays, but eaters are dangerous. You light it, and then fling it on the eater. It goes up in flames, quickly, and Mrs. Maryam turns and begins to walk away. Apparently she doesn’t mind killing those. What a weirdo. 

 

 “How are you going to find your family?” You ask, turning and following her. 

 

 “I’m not sure. It will be dark before too long, though.” She says, glancing up at the sky. You don’t need to look up to know she’s right. You keep keen tabs on the weather and the time. The weather that almost promises rain tonight. 

 

 “We should find shelter.” You say, glancing around at the ruins. Surely there will be a building that’s more or less safe. One that won’t let in rain, and one that doesn’t have any zombies in it. “Come on. Help me find one.”

 

 “I’ll find my family and come join you.” She says, moving away from you. You watch her, scowling darkly at her back. Does she want to die? She doesn’t even know if her family made it here, and here she is, prioritizing finding them over finding shelter. 

 

 With a muttered curse, you look away from her and start scouting for a location where you can spend the night. It doesn’t find long to find a building that meets your needs, and that has a view of your truck, and after clearing it of zombies and blocking all but one of the entrances, you drag in your shit and sit in the doorway, glaring at the street. Ghb has snuck away, because of course he has. 

 

 Before long it starts to rain. You watch. Ghb and Mrs. Maryam are nowhere to be seen. You should’ve kept fuckin’ driving. At least then you’d be doing something other than waiting for people who won’t come back. 

 

 A part of you wonders, if you’d been as loyal to your brother as Mrs. Maryam is to her family, if he’d still be around, but it’s a moot point and you occupy yourself with cussing out everyone you can think to cuss out instead. 

  
 At some point, you begin to doze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how long it's been since I updated this asofoiguog. I know for a fact the next chapter is going to be more exciting tho so stay tuned. >:3c


	7. Meeting The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dualscar meets Mrs. Maryam's family, and starts on a new adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to keep editing this but then I remembered that it's SUPPOSED to be crack and not taken seriously so. Here we are! Nice long one, and second update in a week. Nice. B)

Someone yells and you open your eyes. It's not very close, but it's close enough that you can pick out words. It sounds like someone wants an apology about something.   You groan and stretch out. The yelling continues, and, reluctantly, you stand up. Someone is going to get a fist in their face for waking yo-You were asleep. You were /asleep/. What sort of dumbass falls asleep /here/? You're practically in the open. Anything could've picked you off. 

 

 The blood in your veins turns to ice, and you bite your lower lip. All right. Maybe you'll thank whoever it is that's screaming his fool head off. With a deep sigh, meant to steady yourself but not working, you start off. It's not a long walk to the yelling. You turn a corner, and almost smack into a skinny guy who's got thin hair, narrow eyes, and is just a few inches shorter than you. He curses loudly and spins around to look at you, grabbing for a knife in his belt. You scowl at him. 

 

 "You carry that pigsticker there, you'll stab your own ass." You snap. He finally gets it out and starts to swing it out to you. You move quicker, though, and you smack the flat of the knife hard enough that he drops it. "How are you even /alive/ in this economy?"

 

 "I-What?" His face creases slightly in confusion. 

 

 "Ah, Dualscar. I was wondering how long it would take you to join us." You turn and blink at Mrs. Maryam. She has her hand on the shoulder of a tired looking man with a careworn face. "This is my son, Kankri. And his wife, Meulin, is somewhere around here. I believe she might be hunting."

 

 "...Right." You say. You take a step back, and eye the man with the knife. "That would make you..."

 

 "Mituna. I'm the tech expert." 

 

 "What a useful job ya have." You smirk a little, and cross your arms. "I'm sure they couldn't get along without a /tech expert."

 

 "You know what? Go to hell." He snaps. He edges away from you and picks up the knife without taking his eyes off of you. “It’s a lot more helpful than being ugly.”

 

 “Yer going to have to get a lot more creative with your insults if yer tryin’ to hurt me.” You say. 

 

 “I bet that accent’s fake.”

 

 “I bet that-”

 

 “That’s quite enough of that, I believe.” Mrs. Maryam says, reaching over to tug Mituna away from you. He scowls and puts his knife away. 

 

 “You’ll be headin’ to the next town?” You ask her as casually as you can with the twig glaring daggers at you and Kankri rocking back and forth. Damn odd group, that’s for sure. You  _ might _ be able to cram them all into your truck, but you’d rather not have your back to these folks. 

 

 “I think so, yes.” She replies. There’s an odd note in her voice, and you squint at her. She stares at you, a little too high to be looking you in the eye. 

 

 “Where are ya headed in general?” You ask, not able to make this question as casual as the last. 

 

 “Oh,” Mrs. Maryam says. “North ways.”

 

 “North. How far North? Maybe I could drive you.” That question is meant to put her on edge and by the way her eyes flick to meet yours for half a second before looking to Mituna’s, it does. 

 

 “That’s quite all right.” She says quickly. “Mituna doesn’t get along with people, and-”

 

She snaps her mouth shut and her eyes go wide. The hair on the back of your neck goes up and your back stiffens. Something is behind you. You turn at the same moment Mrs. Maryam gasps and jerk to the side, narrowly missing a swipe at your waist. Fear and anger (At yourself, mostly) courses through you and you bite the inside of your cheek as you scramble for safety. Once you’re several feet away from the thing, you focus on it, and surprise, surprise, it’s Ghb. 

 

 Ghb makes a sort of honk and plops down. He sounds damn disappointed and you growl back at him. 

 

 “I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill you, you piece of shit.” You snap. He honks again, sadly now. 

 

 “Uh, who’s this?” 

 

 “Kankri, this is Ghb. Ghb, my son, Kankri.” Mrs. Maryam says. You catch some movement out of the corner of your eyes, but don’t care enough to focus on it. 

 

 “He’s a troll, isn’t he? How curious. He’s  _ big _ , even for a troll. We need to bring him with us, obviously, but how we’ll do it is-” The movement is Kankri and you feel both irritation and panic as he steps just too close to Ghb. 

 

 Ghb moves quickly and grabs for Kankri, but you move faster and yank Kankri back. You kick an empty can at Ghb. 

 

 “Are you fuckin’ stupid?!” You shout, slapping Kankri on the back of the head, hard. He winces and pulls out of your grasp. “Ya got some sort of death wish? Wanderin’ that close to a troll is plain stupidity, especially this one.”

 

 “He doesn’t seem very violent.” Kankri says, rubbing the back of his head. “Maybe he’s just hungry.”

 

 “Oh, sure, and  _ you’re _ his next meal.” You snap. Mostly, now, you’re just pissed off. “Trolls are a zombie, and zombies are  _ dangerous _ . Trolls want their next meal as soon as possible, and don’t care where it comes from. Other then that, sure, they might be  _ peaceful _ , as long as they think they can’t do somethin’  _ unpeaceful _ . 

 

 “I don’t know how yer still alive. I really do not! I’ve spent  _ years _ roaming around and I’ve yet to find a troll that won’t rip someone’s guts out as soon as it’s hungry.” You pause for a breath, and jam your finger into Kankri’s shoulder as you continue, turning to face him. “This one is no different. I don’t know what sort of idiots you are,” You poke him again. “Or why you won’t kill trolls, but this,” Poke. “Is the sort of idiocy that  _ killed _ people before they learned that it’s kill or die. So shut up and come with me while I get my gun and take care of this before someone actually gets hurt.” 

 

 “You didn’t tell him?” Kankri brushes your finger, still pressed into his shoulder, off of him and shoots his mother a look. 

 

 “I did not think he’d believe me. If you want to…”

 

 “No, no, you’re right. I think we ought to take him up on that offer, though.” Kankri says. He turns back to face you. “If it’s still available.” 

 

 You’re lost, and your expression must show it, because he chuckles quietly and pats your arm. 

 

 “I can’t explain right now, but we, and that troll, need to get North. I would’ve chosen another troll, but the last zombies we tried to help took my mother’s arm.” Kankri says, pointing at Mrs. Maryam’s lost arm. 

 

 “Maybe that was because ya were tryin’ to  _ help _ them instead a kill them?” You sneer. Kankri chuckles uneasily. 

 

 “Maybe. Probably, in fact. But this one seems relatively docile. He would be a good bet.” Kankri says. 

 

 “Okay, I hate to agree with McFuckWad over here,” Mituna butts in, stepping up to Kankri’s side. “But I thought we agreed not to take along another troll.”

 

 “But look at him.”

 

 All of you turn to look at Ghb, who sits peacefully on the ground, watching with an expression that’s  _ interested _ . 

 

 “...Okay, dude, I admit that they’re normally a lot more violent than that, but-”

 

 “No butts! Butts are for sitting! Let’s go.”

 

 “But-” 

 

 “No!” Kankri hops away from him and starts trotting around Ghb. Ghb twists his head to watch him, and then scoots around in a semi-circle to continue to watch him. “I assume your car is this way, isn’t it? This is the way you two came from. Please be so kind as to bring the troll and set him up how you normally do.”

 

 You stare after him, face twisted into a tight scowl. You have a feeling something is about to go very, very wrong. Ghb slowly gets up to his feet, and shambles after Kankri. Mituna and Mrs. Maryam both follow, both looking reluctant at best. 

  
 Helplessly, you follow after them. 


	8. Cat Got Your Back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asoifigj im being so good at updating this.

Kankri gets to the truck and circles around it a few times. Then he clambers into the back of the cab. You watch Ghb. The troll climbs into the bed of the truck and lays down on his back with a deflating sigh of a sound. You're hesitant to go near the truck, and grab Mrs. Maryam's wrist as she walks past. 

 

 "Hey," You say. She looks at you and raises a eyebrow. "I don't like this."

 

 "As I recall, you offered to drive us, Mr. Dualscar." She says. 

 

 "That was sarcasm. I can't promise everyone's safety with that monster riding with us. We need to kill him." You growl out your words, and squeeze onto her wrist. She looks unimpressed at best. 

 

 "You've made the mistake of thinking we will rely on you for our safety. I assure you that we will not. We wouldn't be alive unless we were able to defend ourselves. You should know that better than most." Mrs. Maryam replies. She firmly pulls her arm out of your grasp. "I doubt Ghb will hurt us. He  _ is _ docile."

 

 "That don't mean he's tame!" You snap, throwing up your hands. 

 

 "Of course not. But look at him." She waves a hand at the back of the truck. Ghb's feet dangle out of the bed of it, looking as harmless as a corpse. You know better then to believe that. "At the moment, he's not a danger."

 

 "At the moment."

 

 Mrs. Maryam presses her lips together and stares up at you as if she's wondering something. You cross your arms and glower back at her. 

 

 "...I would explain things if I thought it would help." She says finally. "I can only ask that you trust us and bring us to our destination. Please."

 

 You're such a sucker for woman asking you to do things. You groan quietly and rub the back of your neck.

 

 "Fine! Fine. It's not as if I have anything to live for anyway." You say. You let your arms drop to your side and stride over to the driver's seat. 

 

 That Mituna shit has already taken his place in the back with Kankri, but they've left their door open. You grab onto it and try to shut it, but Kankri stops it with his foot. 

 

 "We can't go without Meulin." He says firmly. "She'll find us soon but we can't go without her."

 

 "Oh, yes we can." You say, and start to push on the door. Kankri makes this quiet, offended noise and elbows Mituna. 

 

 Mituna groans and adds his foot to the door as well. Still, you're a strong man, and you start to make progress in closing the door. Just as you think you could get it shut with one firm shove, someone whistles sharply enough to make your ears hurt. 

 

 "Let them go!" 

 

 Something slams into your back and your head meets the door with a concerning sound. Your world spins and you hit the ground quickly. 

 

 "You killed him!"

 

 "You're  _ welcome. _ " 

 

 Okay. This is very painful. You blink the stars out of your vision and slowly get up to your feet. 

 

 “Oh, damn, he’s not dead.” It’s a new voice. You turn slowly, looking for it, and manage to find the source of it. It’s a short woman, with a lot of very curly hair. “Hi.”

 

 “You’re. Meulin?” You ask. She squints her eyes at you, and then nods once. “Fuck you.” 

 

 “Fuck  _ you _ .” She grins then, and climbs into the back of the car with the others. 

 

 You glower after her. You could kill her. That would be the smart choice. She’s Unpredictable, she’s Not Safe. You shouldn’t travel with them. 

 

 What you  _ should _ do is tell them to all get out of the car. What you  _ should _ do is shoot Ghb in the head. What you  _ should _ do is play it safe and keep on driving without any of them. 

 

 But here’s the question: What happens after that? You keep driving around, going in circles, getting drunk, surviving? It sounds so god damned cliche to say that it ain’t  _ living _ but the truth is that it’s  _ not _ . 

  
 And there's no promise that the four of them couldn’t just take what you have. You bite your lip and climb into the driver's seat. With a growl, you slam the door shut. Mrs. Maryam gives you an odd look, and you start the car once more. You’re trapped, and you don’t like this feeling, not one bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go. I think answers will be found in the next couple of chapters??? but who knows


	9. FINALLY AN EXPLANATION

This drive is tense. It makes your heart race and sets your lungs on fire. You itch for a cig, but you aren’t going to let your guard down long enough for that. The truth it, nothing is going wrong, but the feeling that something  _ is about to _ stays lodged in your stomach. It’s stupid to be this jumpy, even if you have got that Ghb fuck, and four almost strangers in your car. 

 

It reminds you of the early days, before everyone got used to living with the zombies. It reminds you how you couldn’t sleep, how you went through cigarettes and alcohol like you went through oxygen, how you watched so many people die. It’s awful, and you hate it, and you hate yourself, too, for being so damn jumpy. 

 

When Mrs. Maryam finally breaks the silence, you jump. 

 

“We are heading to an old factory. It used to belong to Crocker and Skaia.” She says, and you blink. Apparently she isn’t one for small talk. “They’re the ones who made the virus. They were attempting to make...Well, to make a better form of human. As you can imagine, it went about as good as in the old movies.” She cannot be serious. “The issues they had were...made worse by Dr. English fucking over Peixes, the so called empress of Crocker Enterprises.”

 

“Oh?” You say. They’re crazy. They’re all insane. That’s what’s going on here. It all makes sense. They’re just  _ fucking insane. _

 

“Yes. He didn’t want to make a better human. He wanted to make monsters that would destroy the human race. As you can imagine, once Peixes found out, she was furious. She wanted soldiers. You can’t control a monster, after all.” Mrs. Maryam continues. “There was an incident at the factory and the viruses got out. They were working on some different strains of it, and the different types have different side effects, hence the various creatures. Now, Peixes also managed to make a cure for one of the illnesses. It was the one that did the least amount of damage.”

 

“How do you know all this?” You ask. Surely they don’t have a good reason for knowing it. You’ll blow their story right out of the water. 

 

“Mituna used to work there. He was a computer technician.” Well, so much for blowing their story up. 

 

“Wow, thanks for throwing me under the bus, Porrim. Real nice.” Mituna snaps from the back seat. “I was one of the Crocker employes. I’m the one who found the restricted files, actually. Hacked that shit easy.” 

 

“You expect me to believe this.” You say in as reasonable a tone as you can manage. “All right, say I do believe this damn nonsense. Why would ya be headin’  _ back _ to the scene of the crime?”

 

“Like I said, there is a cure. I have it on good authority that it is a cure for the troll one.” Mrs. Maryam says. 

 

“On who’s good authority?” You snap, fear and anger getting the best of you, like you’re some damn  _ rookie _ . 

 

“Mine.” Mituna says. 

 

“Oh, because you have  _ great _ authority!”

 

“I do, actually.” He says. 

 

“You should take a deep breath.” Kankri advises in a soothing tone, and you swear as loudly as you can and slam your hand into the center of the steering wheel. The horn gives a tired honk and from the back of the car, your ‘friendly’ troll repeats the sound. 

 

Then, you take Kankri’s advice and take a deep breath. You let it out slowly. 

 

“An’ why exactly are you tellin’ me now?” You ask, voice once again level. Well. Okay, not level, but, not as ‘freaking the fuck out’ as it was earlier. 

 

“We are well on the road, and I figured I might as well explain it now, when it’s convenient, then when Kankri blurts it out at an inconvenient time. I didn’t want to tell you at all, but...If you are going to drive us, you may as well know. Besides, having you know may be more helpful than having you in the dark.” She says. 

 

“I’m not going with you.” You reply. “You can take the troll, and I’ll drive you close, but I’m not fucking suicidal and your story is bullcrap anyway. I’m not going.”

 

“That’s fair.” Kankri says. “You driving us is more than enough help. Thank you very much.”

 

You grunt in place of an actual reply. The silence is thick enough you couldn’t cut it with a butcher knife. You step on the gas and your car obeys, speeding up. The sooner this is over, the better. You’re going to dump them out of the car, kiss all your problems good bye, and then head back to Mindfang’s. Maybe she’ll have something good for you. More ammo, some good alcohol, whatever. 

 

“Er, we would appreciate it, though, if you stuck around so we could bring back your friend, and-”

 

“No.” You interrupt Kankri before he can finish that thought. 

 

“Please allow me to finish, sir. We won’t be able to do this if we can’t leave quickly. Don’t you want to help us? We might be able to help the human race, not to mention, every person that the virus turned into a troll. Maybe, if we found the right people, and did enough research, we could get the rest of the viruses taken care of, too. Wouldn’t you like to live in a normal society again?” He asks.

 

He’s the sort of man that could talk a man in the desert into giving away his water for magic beans, you realize, someone with a tongue that’s so sure it’s right that it’ll convince everyone else that it’s right, too. Listening to him is like listening to a siren: Suicidal and lovely. 

 

“No, I am not sticking around for this bullshit. If you want to get yourselves killed, that’s your right.” You say, squeezing onto your steering wheel. “You’re full of bullshit, or insane, and I don’t care which, but they’ll both get ya fuckin’ killed, you idiot.”

 

“I’ll pay you.” He sounds unreasonably smug. 

 

You snort before you can stop yourself. “Oh will ya now? With  _ what _ ?” 

 

He taps your shoulder with something, and you look down. Three unopened pack of cigs rest between his fingers, and your throat constricts. Oh. Oh  _ damn _ . You lick your lips and look back forward. 

  
“I’ll think about it.” You mutter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dualscar: lol u can go kill urselves but im not doing it with ya weirdos  
> Signless: :) what if i gave u cigarettes  
> Dualscar: ....well fuck
> 
> Me: whats the most cliche reason for zombies  
> Me: Viruses  
> Me: fantastic


End file.
